


razor's edge

by misstaken



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Established Relationship, Fluff, Gladnis, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misstaken/pseuds/misstaken
Summary: As the team recovers in the aftermath of the summoning of Leviathan, Ignis approaches Gladio with a mission that he cannot entrust to anyone else: his perfectly groomed face.





	razor's edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jakface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakface/gifts).



> Big ol' spoiler warning for Chapter 9 and beyond.

Gladio glanced over the stack of books and the shaving supplies he had requested from Secretary Claustra's aides that morning. All of the items had been delivered with neither a dissenting word nor a request for reimbursement and were accompanied by a bottle of Accordo's best red wine, compliments of Weskham. Gladio hadn’t expected the Secretary to be so accommodating considering the disastrous results of the Rite and the subsequent Imperial attack, but he supposed that without their efforts, the destruction would have been many times worse. Moreover, the group needed a place to stay as long as Ignis was recovering and Noctis was still comatose, so he gladly accepted her offer for temporary lodging.

He had urged Ignis to share a room with him when the Secretary had provided them with their accommodations, but the other man had been stubborn in his demand for a room of his own; Gladio rationalized that if he were in Ignis’s place, he too would have done all that he could to assert his independence as well. In an attempt to understand what the other man was experiencing, Gladio occasionally closed his eyes and tried to move about the room, mimicking Ignis’s situation as well as he could. Ultimately, every time he opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when his vision returned, he felt a pang of guilt that Ignis couldn’t do the same.

The doctors had released Ignis from inpatient care earlier that day, and Gladio held off his visit until his friend had time to acquaint himself with his new surroundings. Waiting had driven him half crazy; between shouldering the burden of Prompto’s concern for Noctis and Ignis and trying to mitigate his own worry for his companions, Gladio wished for nothing more in that moment than a return to the days before he and Ignis had left Insomnia, when Noctis was his only responsibility. Somehow, he didn’t expect that becoming the King’s Shield would extend to the remainder of the Prince’s retinue, but he couldn’t stop now.

Gladio realized he was looking at the closed door, his gaze passing through to the door across the hall that belonged to Ignis, and he turned back to the items on the dresser and sighed, forming a plan of attack for the rest of the evening. “Should probably shave first,” he said aloud, although the bottle of wine was far more tempting than either of the other choices. Before he could get any further, there was a knock at his door.

“Who’s there?” Gladio said, grabbing his black tank top from the bed and pulling it over his head before heading to the door. He opened the door a crack to see Ignis outside, his fingertips lightly brushing over the wooden frame, searching for the handle.

“It’s me, Ignis,” Ignis said, and Gladio immediately opened the door to let his friend in. He heard rapping against the doorframe and looked down to see a cane in Ignis’s hands as he entered the room. “The Accordo government provided this to me. It’s taking some getting used to, but I think that given enough time, I’ll be able to manage as I did before,” Ignis said confidently, but the small lines in his brow betrayed his statement. The cane tapped against Gladio’s shin briefly as Ignis crossed the room, locating the edge of the bed and standing next to it for a moment. “May I?”

Gladio nodded, remembering with chagrin that Ignis couldn’t see him. “Yeah, of course.” He looked Ignis over slowly as he sat down atop the comforter. The other man seemed thinner, although that might have been Gladio’s imagination; it was going to take more adjustment than he thought to look at Ignis the same way he had before. Gladio decided to take his focus off of the cane and concentrate on Ignis’s face. The scarring around his eyes and forehead was prominent, but the scars weren’t as unexpected of an addition as the facial hair that Gladio had never once observed on his normally clean-shaven companion. As a man who grew hair as easily as he cut down hordes of enemies, Gladio was jealous of other men who didn’t have to shave every eight hours to avoid a five-o’clock shadow, and he secretly envied Ignis’s ability to shave once every other morning and still look impeccably put together.

Upon closer observation, Gladio realized why Ignis adhered to such a religious grooming schedule: the facial hair that he had grown over the two weeks that he had been hospitalized was not the tidy, fashionable beard that Gladio had fantasized about; the beard Ignis sported grew in haphazard patches, scattered over his chin and cheeks, culminating in a moustache that was less appealing than the one that Gladio himself had when he was fourteen years old and first had to learn to shave. He swallowed and blinked, grateful for a moment that Ignis was unable to see his reaction to his appearance.

“What’s wrong?” Ignis asked, and Gladio shook his head, silently chastising himself again for the nonverbal response.

“I, ah...I’ve never seen you with a beard, that’s all,” he explained sheepishly.

Ignis snorted. “There’s a good reason for that,” he said, running his hand over his face, “I’ve unfortunately not been blessed with your gift of hair growth.”

It was Gladio’s turn to snort. “I wouldn’t call it a gift,” he said, “do you recall what I looked like when I was fifteen and still hadn’t quite figured out the art of shaving?”

“I remember that the beard burn on my face and neck was occasionally difficult to explain the next day, but that I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Ignis replied straightforwardly, and Gladio took a sharp breath. He hadn’t kissed Ignis since the night before the Rite, and if Ignis hadn’t mentioned it he would have still considered the topic off-limits.

He sat down on the bed next to Ignis. “I was always jealous that you didn’t have to shave every day,” Gladio explained. “I figured you just preferred to be clean-shaven.”

“I do prefer it to looking like a teenage boy who just realized he needed to shave,” Ignis chuckled, “That’s part of the reason I’m here.” He turned towards Gladio and reached towards him; Gladio took Ignis’s hand in his own, stroking his fingers along the lines in Ignis’s palm as the other man continued. “I was hoping you’d help me. Shave, that is. There’s no one I’d trust more than you.”

Gladio squeezed Ignis’s hand in his own. “Sure, Iggy. Definitely.” He looked over at the shaving supplies on the dresser. “I just had the Secretary’s aides send over some stuff for me. I taught Noct how to shave, you know,” he joked, “although I’d guess he probably still only does it once a week.”

“I’m aware of that,” Ignis smiled, and Gladio stood up from the bed, offering Ignis his hand.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” he said, his mind straying to the bottle of wine and Ignis’s previous comments. “It’ll probably be easier for me to do this ‘cause I know you can’t see me.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” He allowed Gladio to help him to a standing position, and he left his cane by the bedside, following slowly behind Gladio to the small washroom.

“Lots of folks get freaked out by straight razors,” Gladio said, and he felt Ignis twitch slightly. “Don’t worry, it’s the best shave ever. I promise. Used to get ‘em in Insomnia when I had to be clean-shaven for a function. Dad swore by them too.”

Ignis sat down atop the closed toilet and took his glasses off while Gladio gathered the supplies from the dresser and carried them into the washroom. He ran the water, testing the temperature with his fingers, and took Ignis’s sunglasses from him and set them on the side of the sink. Ignis followed suit with his shirt, and Gladio’s breath caught in his throat; he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the heavy scarring that he expected was in fact minimal.

“Your ribs seem to have healed just fine,” Gladio commented, wetting a washcloth in the faucet and rubbing it gently over Ignis’s face. He followed suit with a handful of oil, using his fingertips to massage Ignis’s beard and moustache gently. If he let his hands linger for a moment too long along the edges of the other man’s jaw, Ignis had no complaint or comment.

“Yes,” Ignis said, “It wasn’t a fracture after all. Small victories, I suppose,” he said wryly, and Gladio grunted his agreement. He opened the box of shaving soap and placed it in a water glass; it would have to do in place of a proper soap dish. He used a brush to apply a thick layer of lather over Ignis’s face, covering his dark blonde hair completely before opening the razor.

“Looks pretty good,” he said, running his fingertip over the blade and nodding approvingly at the thin red line that appeared. “Didn’t expect it to be sharpened on short notice. Small victories, like you said.”

“I’ll take whatever victories we can get right now,” Ignis replied, and Gladio grabbed two towels; the first, he draped over Ignis’s shoulders, and the second he folded over to use for support as he dropped to his knees in front of Ignis. This was far from the first time he had knelt before his friend, but never in this situation.

Gladio gently pulled Ignis’s cheek taut as he drew the first pass of the blade over his skin and hair, thankful that Ignis’s beard was still short enough to handle with a straight razor alone. At this close proximity and with Ignis’s glasses off, Gladio could see the full extent of his facial injuries, and wanted nothing more than to set the razor down and kiss every one of his scars, as if his actions could somehow erase the marks and change what had happened in the past two weeks. He wiped the blade off on the towel and focused on the task at hand, repeating the motion three more times, ensuring Ignis’s left cheek was smooth before moving to the right.

Ignis’s breathing was slightly heavier than normal, and Gladio paused for a moment after washing the blade off, cocking his head at Ignis. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You didn’t,” Ignis shook his head, “I’ve never had anyone shave my face before.” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards slightly. “Perhaps it’s my barber’s personal touch, but…” he tilted his head in Gladio’s direction, “it’s more satisfying than I expected,” he admitted, his bare chest rising as he took a deep breath.

Gladio swallowed. “It’s, uh, kinda turning me on too,” he confessed, placing the razor on the sideboard and cupping Ignis’s lather-covered chin in his hand. “I swear this isn’t some kinda fetish I never told you about.” Gladio couldn't have Ignis think that he was taking advantage of his temporary vision loss to indulge his own desires; Ignis seemed to have no complaints, and Gladio tilted Ignis’s chin upwards and leaned forward until his mouth was a hair’s breadth away from Ignis’s full, slightly parted lips. He used the fingertips of his other hand to caress Ignis’s smooth cheek, following the long line of his cheekbone to touch his lips softly.

Ignis reached up, abruptly moving Gladio’s hand away from his mouth and pressing his lips against Gladio’s. The lather that remained on Ignis’s still-unshaven chin rubbed into Gladio’s own beard as Ignis kissed him, and underneath the bitterness of the soap, the familiar taste of Ignis’s mouth sent a rush of endorphins through his body. Ignis pulled Gladio close, the towel around his shoulders slipping to the floor as he wrapped his hands around Gladio’s thick neck, fingertips pressing insistently into his tattooed shoulders as Ignis kissed him again and again.

When they finally separated, Gladio was certain that he had as much shaving cream on his own face as Ignis did at this point. He wiped the back of his hand across his face as he took a deep breath. Ignis’s hands were still around his neck, holding on almost as tightly as he had when Gladio had pulled him from the water two weeks prior. “I missed you so fucking much,” Gladio groaned, tipping his head forward and resting his forehead against Ignis’s, “I can’t do this without you,” he continued, his deep voice barely more than a whisper.

Gladio could feel Ignis’s brow wrinkle beneath his forehead. “Yes, I’m happy to be back in the fray, in whatever capacity I can be,” he sighed. “I suppose we ought to finish shaving,” he reminded Gladio in a slightly chiding tone, “though making up for lost time is quite an appealing proposition.”

“Then let’s get this done,” Gladio nodded vigorously, picking up Ignis’s towel from the floor and using it to clean the shaving soap from his cheeks and beard before applying more to Ignis’s face. He checked the blade again, applying light pressure from his fingertips to Ignis’s lips and shaving his moustache in quick downward strokes. He stopped for a moment. “Open your mouth,” Gladio instructed, his index finger pulling gently on Ignis’s lower lip.

With his head tilted slightly backwards, Ignis’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as his mouth formed a soft round shape. Gladio gritted his teeth at the sight; he was used to seeing this expression in an entirely different context. He glanced down at the razor and back at Ignis. “I’m never gonna look at shaving in the same way again,” Gladio thought to himself as he made short work of shaving the rest of Ignis’s face, using short, quick motions to shave the corners of Ignis’s mouth. Finally, Gladio covered Ignis’s lips once more with his fingers, tilting Ignis’s head further back to carefully remove the hair covering the sharp lines of his chin, following those lines and finishing with long strokes of the razor along his throat.

Gladio made a satisfied noise. “Now that’s the Ignis I recognize,” he declared. He handed Ignis a warm washcloth, and when Ignis finished cleaning the hair bits and soap from his face, Gladio accepted the washcloth from him and touched up the places that Ignis had missed. He left the straight razor on the countertop while he filled his palms with aftershave, patting them delicately over Ignis’s freshly shaved face. He silently congratulated himself on his performance; despite his dick being half hard and not having shaved anyone other than himself in at least two years, Gladio felt he had done a fairly admirable job.

Ignis used Gladio’s broad shoulders to lift himself to a standing position, offering his hand to Gladio to help him up from his knees. Once both men were standing, Ignis slid his arm around Gladio’s waist and kissed Gladio’s stubble-covered cheek, two fingers from his free hand tracing the dark, coarse hair along his jaw. “You also need to shave,” Ignis chided, “but I’ll forgive the beard burn this time.” Gladio’s mouth spread into a small smile as Ignis bent forward and met his lips again. “Thank you, Gladio,” he added between kisses.

“Don’t mention it,” Gladio murmured against Ignis’s mouth, taking his free hand in his own. “You hear that?” he said in a low voice, his lips nipping at Ignis’s ear.

“This?” Ignis replied, cupping his hand over Gladio’s heart. “The medics told me that my other senses would sharpen to account for my temporary vision loss,” he explained, “but it’s likely that Prompto can hear your heartbeat down the hall.” He captured Gladio’s mouth in another searing kiss while nudging the larger man towards the door. “As much as I’d love to bend you over the sink and take you right here, I think tonight ought to begin on a more forgiving surface.”

When questioned the next morning, Gladio narrowly avoided choking on his coffee as Ignis explained the red bumps that covered one side of his face and the entirety of his neck as the result of attempting to shave with a cheap disposable razor. Prompto seemed to believe his story, changing the subject to breakfast options, and Gladio glanced at Ignis when their younger companion excused himself to make another cup of coffee.

“Close shave, but I think he believed me,” Ignis deadpanned, and Gladio squeezed his thigh underneath the cover of the table, grinning at his friend and lover’s pun.

“It’s good to have you back, Iggy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this immediately after finishing chapter 10 (for the second time) and "Beams" by The Presets kept it from being an angst-riddled mess.
> 
> It's worth mentioning that Gladnis was my first ship for FFXV and it is still near and dear to my heart...even though other ships have completely destroyed my life (nervous laughter)


End file.
